


Copper-Jacketed Heart

by Angelwithbrokenwings, dusty_violet



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Military, Anxiety Attacks, Army Doctor Gabriel, Bisexual Dean Winchester, Blood, Cardiophilia, Castiel Whump, Dean Winchester Whump, Destiel - Freeform, Fainting, Gay Castiel, Gunshot Wounds, Heartbeats, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Medical Examination, Military, Military Training, Nervous Dean Winchester, Not Canon Compliant, Overprotective Castiel, Paralysis, Protective Castiel, Sick Dean Winchester, Slow Burn, Snipers, Soldier Castiel, Soldier Dean Winchester, Stubborn Dean, Surgery, Temporary Character Death, War, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-30
Updated: 2017-01-07
Packaged: 2018-07-11 01:48:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 15,546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7020694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Angelwithbrokenwings/pseuds/Angelwithbrokenwings, https://archiveofourown.org/users/dusty_violet/pseuds/dusty_violet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Private Winchester would do anything to succeed in sniper school. But he wasn't counting on developing a crush on his instructor! A series of one-shots following the slow burn of Destiel in a military sniper AU setting.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The authors are civilians with no military knowledge, so we did exhaustive research to try to get the details correct for this piece. Then we decided to take certain liberties for the sake of the plot. We hope this story is entertaining and we apologize to any active or retired military personnel if there are any factual inaccuracies. We tried our best, but certain things were above our security clearance.

It was Castiel's favorite time of year again; time to choose who from among the top soldiers in this year's recruiting class would make it into his elite sniper training program. He had reviewed all the files - they were all strong men (and one woman, even), all qualified candidates - but he looked forward to evaluating them in person to choose the best applicant. Fortunately, he had an inside man: his old buddy Gabriel from the army leadership course was a medical officer now, so he arranged for Cas to be present during the physical examinations as a chaperone, which enabled him to check out his options firsthand.

Castiel knocked on the door to Gabriel's office and walked in. Gabe immediately stood to attention and saluted the man before him. Cas kept a straight face before walking over and hugging Gabe. "I told you to stop saluting me, you ass," the younger man said, shoving him away. The two continued to play fight until they heard a knock on the door.

The two sat through the exams for all the recruits. Cas sorted the files into piles as he went of who he wanted to see again and who he didn't.

"So, anyone caught your eye yet?" Gabriel turned to Cas, wiping down the exam table for the next applicant.

Castiel placed the file he was reading down and nodded. "Interesting bunch this year, but no one has stood out - nothing new." He seemed slightly disappointed.

Before Gabe could ask who, there was a knock on the door: the last recruit on the list. Cas looked at the file and read the name: Dean Winchester.

Dean waited anxiously for the door to open. He stood to attention saluting. "Private First Class Winchester, sir!"

Gabriel nodded. "Winchester, I'm Captain Speight. I'll be performing your medical exam today. Come in." Dean followed him in and noticed the man in uniform in the corner of the room. "This is Master Sergeant Collins; he will be observing your examination." Dean stood to attention and saluted his superior. Gabe turned back to Dean. "Okay, we're going to start with a few questions then I'll get started on your exam."

Dean nodded and sat down on the exam table, his eyes trying to not wander over to the man watching him intently.

“So, you’ve already done your labs and your hearing and vision tests, correct?” Gabe asked.

“Yes, sir,” Dean replied.

“Alright, good!” Gabe continued. “I’m going to ask you all the standard questions now. Do you have any history of tuberculosis?”

“No, I tested negative.”

“How’s your oral health?”

“Fine.”

“Good. How about any problems with your arms or shoulders?”

“Nope.”

“How about your legs or feet?”

“They’re fine too.”

“Okay. Any problems with your guts?”

Dean’s face twisted in confusion. “Sir?”

Gabe chuckled. “Internal organs. Have you had any symptoms with your heart, lungs, stomach, liver, intestines, kidneys, et cetera?”

“You got a funny way of asking that,” Dean replied. “But, no, my guts are good.”

“Excellent!” Gabe confirmed. “Any problems with your head? Dizziness, fainting, seizures…”

“No, nothing like that.”

“Alright, have you ever had a concussion or memory loss? What about mental health problems?”

“No, sir, everything’s been fine.”

“Very good. Have you ever been hospitalized? Had surgery?”

“I had appendicitis when I was 12 - had that removed,” Dean answered.

“Any other medical treatment?”

“No, that’s all, sir.”

“Okay, good!” Gabe finished. “Shirt off, lie on the table, and let’s get your EKG first.” He wheeled the machine next to the bed. "I'm going to place these wires on your chest, wrists and ankles so I can get an electrical reading of your heart and a more detailed picture of how it's working.”

He began to place stickers on Dean's chest and then his wrists and his ankles. He then connected a wire to each sticker and plugged them into a machine.

"Okay, lie as still as possible why I get a reading,” Gabe instructed.

Dean nodded and lay still as Gabe turned the machine on. A rapid beeping filled the room, keeping time with Dean's heart. A few seconds passed and the machine began to print out the tracing. He turned the machine off, disconnected the wires, and peeled the stickers off.

“Well, it looks alright, but it’s a little fast,” he reported, studying the print out. “Are you feeling okay, Private?”

Dean swallowed thickly. “Yes, Captain. Just a little nervous, sir.”

“A little?”

“Okay, a lot nervous.”

Gabriel smiled reassuringly. “It’s a lot of pressure, trying to get into sniper school, isn’t it?”

Dean nodded. “I just want to make my father proud. Give my little brother something to look up to. You know?”

“I do,” Gabe affirmed. “Don’t worry about it so much, kid. Everything looks fine so far. I’m gonna check your pulse now, alright?” He grasped Dean’s wrist and counted, staring at his wrist watch. After a few seconds, he sighed, turning around to make eye contact with Cas. "I can't pass him if his heart is this fast - nerves or not."

Rising from his seat in the corner, Cas broke his silence. “How fast is it?” he asked.

“Over 100 - if it doesn’t come down, I’ll have to fail him for tachycardia,” Gabe responded.

Dean’s heart rate spiked at that. “I - I’ll bring it down,” he stammered. “I can’t fail.”

Castiel walked over to Dean, taking his other wrist and feeling the pulse for himself. “Easy, soldier,” he said in a firm yet calm voice. “You’re not going to fail. You’re going to breathe with me and your heart rate will come right down.” He looked up at Gabriel for permission; the doctor nodded.

Cas guided the young soldier’s hand to rest on Cas’ stomach. “In through your nose; let the air expand your belly like this,” he demonstrated. He watched Dean’s stomach slowly rise with the breath. “Good, now breathe out through your mouth nice and slow,” he coached. “Breathe in again, fill your belly… and breathe out.”

They repeated the cycle, breathing in sync, Dean’s hand rising and falling on Castiel’s abdomen at the same rate as Dean’s controlled breaths moved his own body up and down.

Finally, Gabriel spoke. “It’s working.”

“What’s his pulse now?” Cas asked.

“72. A little higher than his resting rate probably is, but still healthy,” Gabe replied.

“That’s better, isn’t it?” Cas asked warmly. Dean smiled back up at him in gratitude.

“How about we get your blood pressure now?” Gabe asked. He picked up a cuff from a nearby shelf and velcroed it around Dean’s right arm. Then, after inflating the cuff, he used his stethoscope to listen carefully for the measurement. “Other arm now,” he narrated as he removed the cuff and stepped to the other side of the exam table.

“Is it good?” Dean asked, eying his doctor tentatively.

“It’s perfect,” Gabe reassured him. “Standard policy is to get both sides. Nothing to worry about.” He repeated the test on Dean’s left arm, smiling and nodding to indicate a normal, healthy measurement.

“Okay, now let’s have you sit back up and I’ll do your head-to-toe exam,” the doctor continued.

When Dean sat up, Castiel returned to his seat in the corner of the room to allow Gabriel to finish the physical examination. Gabe started at Dean’s head - skipping eyes and ears, since those were already tested - and worked his way down incrementally. He checked his hair, his skin, his nose, mouth, throat, and neck, not noting any abnormal findings.

Next, Gabriel examined Dean’s lungs, tapping on his back between his ribs, and listening to full, deep breaths through his stethoscope for sounds that were clear and equal on both sides. Then he came around to Dean’s front and listened again to all the lung fields.

Finding nothing abnormal there, Gabe moved on to listen to his patient’s heart. He placed the stethoscope over the aortic area and listened to the clear S2 sound hammering just below the skin. No murmurs there. He slid the stethoscope to the pulmonic area and located S2 again.

“Deep breath in and hold it,” he ordered.

Dean inhaled unsteadily and held his breath, allowing Gabriel to hear his heart valves closing separately instead of in sync.

“Alright, just breathe normally again,” Gabe continued. He settled his stethoscope over the tricuspid valve, listening for the S1 sound this time. It was loud and crisp, thudding rapidly up the tubing and into Gabe’s ears.

“Your pulse is up again,” he commented, absently moving the diaphragm to the mitral area. He flicked his eyes up to Castiel, who made eye contact and nodded back.

“S-sorry, sir,” Dean stuttered. “Please, please don’t fail me.”

Then Cas was up and at his side again. “Relax, Winchester,” he said softly. “Remember your breathing.”

Dean took in a breath, slow and shaky, and Cas watched as the young soldier’s diaphragm swelled with the depth of the inhalation. He released the air through his mouth.

“Good,” Cas coached. “Just like that - keep doing that.” He glanced at Gabriel, who had turned the stethoscope over to the bell side and was listening to Dean’s heart valves again through the other frequency.

“Everything sounds healthy, Private,” Gabe informed his patient. “We’re gonna lie you back down so I can listen again, alright? Keep breathing with Cas here -”

“Cas?” Dean asked.

“Master Sergeant Collins,” Gabe recovered quickly. “Just breathe with him and relax. You’re doing great, everything is absolutely normal so far.”

Reassured, Dean reclined on the exam table, angling his head so Cas was still in his line of sight. Gabriel placed the diaphragm of the stethoscope back on Dean’s chest and listened carefully at each heart valve, pausing for a minute over the apex of the heart.

“Sounds fine, Winchester,” Gabe announced. He flipped the stethoscope to the bell and listened one last time in all the key areas.

“Heart rate?” Cas asked.

“68 - slow and steady,” Gabe replied. “Can you roll onto your left side for me? I’m going to listen to your mitral valve for any extra sounds - which I’m sure you don’t have,” he added reassuringly.

Dean rolled, and Gabe reached over him to place the bell lightly against Dean’s chest below his left nipple. On his side, Dean was now looking directly at Cas, who was crouched down at his eye level. Mesmerizing blue eyes met his not unappealing green ones in an intense, unwavering gaze. Dean felt his pulse rate climbing again, against his will, for an entirely different reason.

“Breathe, Dean,” Castiel prompted. He took an exaggerated breath for the soldier to mimic. Dean followed his lead, inhaling a bit raggedly with the intimacy of the situation. They exhaled together, more solidly.

“That’s really good, Private,” Gabriel stated, removing his stethoscope. He rested his fingers on the spot where it had just vacated, palpating Dean’s apical pulse and counting the rate. “Can I have you roll back onto your back, now, and I’ll just feel here again?”

The younger man returned to his previous position, and Gabe’s fingers felt down his ribs and across his chest to the point of maximal impulse. “Pulse is nice and strong,” the doctor commented. “Rate and rhythm are normal. Good! Okay, I’m going to feel your chest wall for lifts, heaves, or thrills.” He used the palms of his hands against Dean’s skin in several places. “All good here! Your heart checks out just fine.”

Dean sighed in relief. Castiel returned to his seat.

Gabriel continued his examination of Dean: checked his abdomen for lesions or masses; palpated for the size and shape of all his organs; and auscultated for bowel sounds. He examined his limbs for strength and flexibility and made sure there were no muscular or joint abnormalities. Everything was healthy, all the way down to his patellar reflex. Gabe gave Dean a clean bill of health and sent the Private off to radiology for his chest x-ray.

Gabriel began to tidy the exam room after Dean had left, while Cas began writing his notes. “You liked him, Collins,” he grinned.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he scoffed.

“Would you have done that for anyone else?” Gabe gave him a look.

Castiel shrugged his shoulders. “His file is interesting - top of the class for training and shooting - and he responded well to a simple breathing exercise,” he explained, putting his file on top and patting it. “Yes, I think I like Dean Winchester a lot.”


	2. Chapter 2

A week later, Gabriel plopped a stack of files on Cas’ desk. “These are the ones who passed,” he explained.

Castiel looked up at his friend. “Oh?”

“Don’t worry, he’s in there,” Gabe chuckled. “Put him right on top of the stack for ya.”

Cas rolled his eyes halfheartedly. “You’re supposed to be unbiased.”

“So are you,” The older man retorted.

“I am!” Cas protested. “He performed the best, and I believe he has great potential.”

“You also believe he’s good looking.”

“Get out.” Castiel shooed him out the door in mock annoyance.

 

* * *

 

 Another week passed, and Cas found himself face-to-face with his new trainee. “Private Winchester,” he said in greeting.

“Master Sergeant Collins, sir!” Dean replied, surprised. Quickly, he remembered to salute. “I, uh, I didn’t know you were… I mean… back then?” he trailed off.

“You didn’t know I was the instructor when we first met?” Cas finished. Dean nodded in agreement, eyes wide. “I apologize for the secrecy, Winchester. It is the best way for me to evaluate the candidates.”

Dean gulped. “Some first impression,” he mumbled.

“Well, I selected you, didn’t I?” Cas answered.

“Sorry, sir, I meant no disrespect,” the younger man replied hastily.

“None taken. Welcome to the program! It will consist of six weeks of intensive training,” he explained. “We will begin with physical conditioning, then move on to ballistics theory, advanced marksmanship, and finally sniper tactics. At the end of the course is the final exam. You will need a 70% score to pass.”

“How do I get a 70% on physical conditioning?” Dean asked.

“We start now,” Cas announced, opening a desk drawer and digging around in it. He found what he was searching for and placed it on his desk in front of Dean. “Put this on,” he instructed.

Dean picked up the black elastic band and eyed it skeptically. “Put it on… how, exactly?”

Cas grinned and took it from Dean’s hands. “I’ll show you. Shirt up,” he ordered.

Dean was motionless for a second; a moment later, he recovered and pulled his shirt up as he was asked. Castiel stepped in closer, reaching around behind Dean and fastening the elastic strap around his chest. He adjusted the band in the back so it fit snugly around, just below the level of his pectoralis muscles.

“There,” the instructor confirmed. He pressed a button on his wristwatch, and it began to light up in sync with the device strapped to the center of Dean’s chest. “Good, the Bluetooth is working.”

“Sir, why did you put an electronic bra on me?”

Cas snorted. “It’s not a bra, Winchester. It’s a heart rate monitor.”

“Why am I wearing the monitor, but you’re wearing the watch?” Dean asked.

“Because I’m going to run with you and evaluate your cardiovascular fitness level,” Cas explained. He looked down at the watch on his wrist, which now showed 88 with a pulsing red heart icon. “You nervous again, Private?”

“No, sir,” Dean responded, too quickly. He received side-eye from his instructor when the readout began climbing over 90 beats per minute.

“Come on, then,” Cas sighed, gesturing with a jerk of his head towards a running trail that formed a perimeter around the entire base. The two took off at a brisk jog, their steps falling into sync as they circled the base.

“How far are we going today, sir?” Dean asked three miles later.

Castiel glanced at his watch. Dean’s heart was holding steady at a brisk 148 beats per minute. “Distance isn’t the point, Winchester,” he replied cryptically.

“What is the point, then?” the private questioned.

“Run faster.” Cas smirked and picked up the tempo, forcing Dean to accelerate to match his speed. The digits on the watch were nearing 160 now.

“How-” Dean panted. “How fast are we going today, sir?”

Private Winchester was apparently a quick study. “Oh, we’ll be sprinting by the end,” Cas answered. “Don’t worry.” He increased his pace again, keeping a close eye on his trainee’s heart rate on the watch. When Dean’s pulse peaked around 182 beats per minute, Castiel called out “Halt!” and jogged to a stop. Both men were visibly out of breath from the exercise.

From years of practice, Cas automatically took control of his own breathing in a deliberate effort to slow his own heartbeat back to its resting rate. But Dean had no such training as of yet. Cas’ gaze shifted back and forth between Dean’s face (gauging his level of effort) and the number displayed on his watch (determining his cardiovascular recovery time). The Private's pulse decreased gradually over the next three minutes as he caught his breath.

“Was that good, sir?” Dean asked.

“Get a drink of water if you want one, and we’ll start sprinting in ten minutes.”

“That bad, huh?” the younger man remarked, discouraged.

“What? Oh, no, your fitness level is fine, Winchester,” Cas reassured him. “The point of this exercise isn’t distance, or speed - it’s to get your heart rate up, so I can teach you to bring it back down quickly,” he explained. “I wanted to see how your body would recover naturally before I show you how to do it artificially.”

Dean took a swig of water and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Why do I need to know that?”

“You’ll see when we get to the shooting range,” Castiel promised. “Try shooting between heartbeats when your pulse is going double- or triple-time.”

Dean nodded. “I see what you mean, sir.”

“You’re going to become very in tune with your heart after all this,” Cas commented, his hand absently coming to rest on his chest. “Once you start focusing on it, it’s difficult to forget about it beating constantly.”

“Guess so,” the younger man echoed. He couldn’t help but look at his instructor’s chest and wonder what his heart was doing.

“Okay, you ready? Time for sprints!”

They lined up at the edge of a grassy field with a white line spray-painted on the ground about 100 meters away. Cas gave the signal, and they raced to cross the line at roughly the same time.

“Good, twice more,” Cas ordered. They sprinted back across the field to the start, pausing only to turn around and sprint to the other side again.

“I think I’m ready to learn now, sir,” Dean gasped, his chest heaving in the humid summer air.

Cas glanced at the watch - 164 beats per minute - and nodded in confirmation. “Fastest way to learn is by doing,” he stated, extending his arm. “Breathe with me, and feel my pulse. Feel how it goes down. Breathe like I do and visualize your own heart slowing down like mine.”

Dean’s fingers pressed into the instructor’s wrist. He watched Cas breathe, in and out, and matched his pace. His mouth dropped open in amazement at the feel of Master Sergeant Collins’ pulse slowing so dramatically under his fingertips.

Castiel smiled. “You’ll get there, too. Right now, just breathe.” He looked at the watch; the number was declining as Dean practiced the breathing pattern. “That’s it. Your pulse is settling - you’re getting the hang of this.”

It took every ounce of his military discipline for Dean to keep his focus on the instructions and not on his instructor. He had to master this skill in order to be a good sniper and pass the course.

Before Dean could get nervous, Cas interrupted, looking straight into the younger man’s eyes. “Don’t get excited, now! Focus on your breath. Good; let’s go again!”

They sprinted the length of the field together three more times until Dean found himself panting once again. He could feel his heart beating vigorously again, and he knew it would show on his instructor’s watch. “Sir?” he asked.

“You remember how to do it?” Castiel questioned. “Do you need to watch me again?”

Dean shook his head. “Naw, I think I got it.”

Cas grinned. “Good! Okay, we are going to sprint one more time. When you get to the end, I want you to drop immediately to the prone position, as if you were going take a shot. Understood?”

“Yes, sir,” he replied.

“Ready, set, go!” They raced across the field one final time as fast as their legs would carry them.

Dean got onto his hands and knees, then quickly lowered his entire body against the ground and began the breathing exercise. Cas squatted beside Dean’s head, focused on the readout on the heart monitor watch.

“That’s it Winchester, just like I taught you,” Castiel praised. “Can you feel your pulse against the ground you’re lying on?”

Dean’s heart banged against his ribs as if it were nailing them to the ground. “I can,” he replied.

“Good,” Cas confirmed. “Pay attention to how it feels as it slows down. Notice the space in between beats, how it gets longer as your heart gets slower.”

Dean’s heart had decelerated noticeably by now. He could feel what his instructor was describing.

Cas continued, “Can you feel how your heartbeat shakes your body? And how it’s absolutely still in between? That stillness is what is going to allow you to get a more accurate shot, especially from hundreds of yards away.”

“I didn’t realize it made such a big difference until now,” Dean commented.

“Oh, yeah,” the Master Sergeant replied, “even your trigger finger’s got a pulse in it.” He handed Dean an unloaded practice rifle that was propped up against a storage shed nearby. “Practice tapping the trigger in between your heartbeats.”

Dean jumped when he felt Cas’ fingers against his neck.

“Easy, soldier. I’m just feeling your pulse so I know if you’re doing it right,” he explained.

The younger man took a deep breath to steady himself and began gently tapping the trigger each time he felt his chest become motionless. He waited for the gentle thump of his heart against the ground, pausing each time to let it pass, and simulated the motion of firing the weapon.

His neck was cold when his instructor’s fingers pulled away. “You’ve got it,” Cas announced. “That was fairly quick.”

Dean could feel pride swelling warmly inside his chest. “Told you I wouldn’t let you down, sir.”

“Never doubted you, Winchester,” he beamed back, extending his hand. “Get up and hit the showers. We’re done for the afternoon.” Castiel watched the Private jog off towards the barracks, then turn around and jog back.

“Master Sergeant? How do I take this electronic bra off?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For an awesome series aesthetic provided by our friend cardiaccadillac, please check out the following tumblr post: http://cardiaccadillac.tumblr.com/post/144980451448/plungerwhisk-kittycat-cas-you-know-why


	3. Chapter 3

Dean’s training continued for the next few days. He was improving each day and was finally managing to keep his heart under control around his superior officer.

He woke the next day feeling like crap. He dismissed it as a simple cold; he didn’t want to miss a day of training.  Dean threw on his training clothes and strapped the heart monitor on before leaving to meet his instructor. Once outside, he could see Cas waiting for him.

Cas studied Dean’s face. “You look a little pale, are you feeling okay?”

Dean nodded. “Yeah. I’m fine.”

Cas eyed him for a little longer before nodding back. “Okay, we’ll start with a warm up and then start sprinting again.” Cas reached for the watch and turned it on as Dean pressed the button on the strap around his chest. Cas noticed the number on screen; it was far higher than his resting rate should be. “You know you shouldn’t be training when you’re sick, Private,” Cas mentioned again, more concerned this time.

“I’m fine sir, it’s just nerves. Let's go,” Dean insisted before beginning his run. Castiel jogged off after him, quickly catching up and matching his pace with little exertion. The younger soldier, however, seemed to be straining with the effort.

After the warm up, Dean had his hands on his knees and was bent over trying to catch his breath. Cas looked at the watch, noticing the number was much higher than it should be. He pushed down the bad feeling he had; he knew how much Dean wanted this, and as long as he thought he could train, then Cas was going to let him.  

Feeling his heart thundering and his lungs straining, Dean began to breathe deliberately the way Castiel had taught him. He needed to slow everything down, regain control over his body. With each breath he felt a bit better, stronger; but still he was fatigued and weak. _Inhale… exhale…_

Cas’ hand landed on the small of his back. “Dean,” he sighed, “are you trying to breathe your way out of this illness?”

Dean shook his head, hard, and focused on the exercise. _Inhale… exhale…_

“I can see what you’re trying to do, Private, and it’s not a good idea.”

“Check your watch, sir,” Dean retorted.

Castiel rolled his eyes and glanced at the device on his wrist. “Well I’ll be damned,” he uttered. He shook his wrist, but the reading was unchanged. He pressed his fingertips to Dean’s neck, expecting to feel the surge of an elevated pulse; but instead, his heart rate had settled barely a few beats above normal.

“Told you - I’m _fine_ ,” he insisted.

Finally, Cas shrugged and dropped his hand. “Alright, then, Winchester. Let’s do four sprints and then we’ll work with the practice rifle again.”

After the first sprint, Cas definitely knew there was something wrong. Dean couldn’t keep up and he looked - well, awful.  The instructor came to an abrupt halt, forcing his student to stop as well.  

“Private, I told you: you shouldn’t be training if you are sick,” Cas commented, noting how tired and pale Dean looked.  

“‘M fine, it’s just a cold,” Dean replied a little shakily.

Cas came closer, putting a hand on the younger man's forehead. “You’re running a fever; come on, training’s over for today.”

Dean swatted the hand away clumsily. “Only three more, I can finish,” he pleaded.

“You can’t do three more,” Castiel scoffed.

“Two?”

“You got a death wish, soldier?”

“Fine. One?”

Castiel sighed. “Fine. If you can drag yourself across the field one more time, I’ll let you practice getting into position.”

Dean grinned. The creases of his smile drew more attention to the dark circles beneath his eyes, tired and puffy against his pale yet flushed cheeks. ‘Hurry up!” he challenged.

Cas let Dean have a head start, knowing full well it would not be difficult to catch up. He overtook Dean halfway across the field. A quick glance at the watch showed how badly Dean was straining - 186 beats per minute.

“You good?” he questioned, expecting another false assurance in response.

“I’m okay,” Dean insisted as he stumbled into Cas.

Cas caught him quickly and settled him down onto the ground so he was sitting. He tapped Dean’s face gently. “You still with me, soldier?” he smiled. Dean nodded. “Let me pack up, then we’ll get you back.” Cas shook his head. “You’re stubborn, Winchester - I’ll give you that.”

“I’m not stubborn, _Sammy’s_ stubborn,” Dean muttered.

That remark didn’t make any sense to Cas. So, he packed up the gear, slinging both bags over his shoulders before returning to Dean. Cas handed him his water bottle, forcing him to drink a little.

“Little sips, alright?” he coached.

“I’m not little, _Sammy’s_ little. Well, he used to be little. Then he got all big!” Dean rambled. “Big like Sasquatch!”

Cas capped the water bottle and put his hands under the soldier’s arms, lifting him with ease. “I’m sure he did, Private.”

“Really… _really_ big,” the younger man asserted, wide-eyed.

“I believe you,” Castiel affirmed. “I do. Now, can you walk with me to the barracks? We need to get you laying down.”

Dean began to sway against Cas. “I’m sorry,” Dean sighed.  

“Nothing to be sorry for. People get sick. It happens,” Cas tried to comfort him.  

“I just wanted to make my family and country proud. Sammy… and my Dad… and my Sammy,”  he trailed off.

Cas could feel Dean getting heavier against him and paused. “You still with me, Private?”

Seeing Dean’s eyes closed, Cas dropped the bags and lowered him gently to the floor. “Alright, you’re okay.” Cas knelt down by Dean’s head. “Dean? Dean, can you hear me?” After receiving no response, Cas put two fingers to Dean’s sweat-soaked neck, relieved when he felt the soft but rapid, erratic thumping there. He tilted Dean’s head back and leaned his head close to Dean’s, seeing the rise and fall of his chest and feeling his breath on his cheek.

“Alright, hang on,” Cas soothed. He reached into his pocket, pulling out his phone and calling Gabriel.  He explained what had happened, and not long after, Gabriel came running to their side with his medical kit.  

 

* * *

 

“Cas?” Gabriel called. “What have we got?”He hurried over, rapidly closing the gap.

“Winchester’s passed out,” he answered his friend. “I think he’s sick, must’ve overdone it - stubborn kid!”

Gabe knelt by Dean’s head and gently jostled his shoulder. “Can you hear me, son?” He reached for the soldier’s pulse, nodding to himself when he felt the artery throbbing against his touch. He leaned in closer over Dean’s nose and mouth to confirm that he was breathing.

“I already checked that,” Castiel complained.

Gabe glared jokingly at him. “Will you let me be the doctor here, please?”

Cas sighed and held his hands up in resignation.

“He’s breathing, but unresponsive with a rapid pulse,” Gabe narrated. “There’s no sign of any trauma to the head or spine, so I think it’s safe to move him. He’s sweaty - that could be from exertion - and he seems to be running a temperature.” He pinched the skin on the back of Dean’s hand, observing closely as he released it. “And he’s dehydrated.”

“Yes, now, can you help me move him, please?”

“Patience, Master Sergeant,” Gabriel coaxed. Turning to his bag, he dug towards the bottom for a blood pressure cuff and stethoscope. “Let me just see what we’re dealing with here first.” He wrapped it around the unconscious soldier’s arm, placing his stethoscope in position and inflating the cuff. He watched the dial carefully as he slowly released the air.

“Gabe?” Cas insisted.

The doctor pulled the stethoscope from his ears and unwrapped Dean’s arm. “It’s low. Not dangerously low,  but enough that he’s not likely to come around without fluids. Let’s get him to the infirmary.”

Gabe and Cas each grabbed one of Dean’s arms, pulling him into a sitting position. They threw his arms over their shoulders and managed to lift his dead weight so he was nearly standing, allowing them to drag him across the field to the building housing the infirmary.

“Jesus, Speight!” someone cried when the pair dragged Dean through the doors.

“Just get me a gurney,” Gabriel retorted. A bed was wheeled over and the men laid their unconscious patient on it. Cas followed until Gabe stopped him with a hand to his chest. “Give me a minute to get him stabilized, alright?”

Castiel studied him for a moment, then nodded. “Alright, just -”

“I _know_ , Cas,” Gabe interrupted. “Relax, we got this.” He waved his nurse over and set to work connecting Dean to the vital signs monitors.

Cas sat down in the nearest chair, not caring where he was, and let the bustling and the beeping and the blood work fade into the background. Nothing mattered in that moment except the health of his student. That young man had placed his welfare in Cas’ hands, and he’d allowed the kid to push himself beyond his limits - and he’d blacked out. He had a fleeting thought of contacting the young man’s family, but he knew the medical support staff would handle that. The instructor lost track of how much time had elapsed, but picked up his friend’s approaching silhouette in his peripheral vision, and raised his eyes to meet him.

“He’s still unconscious,” Gabriel informed him, “but you can see him now.”

 

* * *

 

When Dean woke, he didn’t recognize his surroundings. He was lying somewhere reasonably comfortable, but it wasn’t his bunk. And that wasn’t his sleepwear he was dressed in. Something was pinching in his hand, and where was that annoying beeping sound coming from? He moved to get up, only to be stopped by a hand pushing him back down. 

“No, you’re not going anywhere,” Cas commanded. “You had a temperature of 104, you were dehydrated - what were you thinking?” 

Dean looked down, slightly embarrassed, only just noticing a cannula in his hand connected to a bag of saline. 

“How are you feeling? You scared me back there, Winchester.” Cas spoke softly. “Why didn’t you tell me you were this sick?” he asked, concerned. 

Dean sighed, “I thought I would be fine.” 

“Look Dean, I heard what you said earlier - and I get it, believe me. I know you want to make your family proud, your dad and your brother, and pass this course. But you can’t do that if you are sick! Working yourself into the ground is not going to help that. Now, I want you to take a few days’ rest and get your strength back. Okay, soldier?” Cas patted Dean’s leg as he got up and left the room, leaving Gabriel to come in and check on his patient.  

“When can I get out of here, sir? I need to get back to training,” Dean sighed. 

Gabe chuckled and sat in the chair next to Dean’s bed. “Cas was right about you, you  _ are  _ stubborn! But you’re not indestructible. You ran yourself down today, and that’s not going to do you any good. I’m putting you on 24 hour bed rest - now, get some sleep.”  

Gabe turned away to leave, but changed his mind and turned back. “You know he didn’t leave once?  I had to force him to sit outside - damn near thought he would come bursting in!” he chuckled. Then Gabe’s expression turned serious. “He cares about you, you know?  Look after yourself, kid. I’ll be back to check on you later, and you still better be in this bed.” 

Gabe walked out, leaving Dean to settle back down and rest.


	4. Chapter 4

In actuality, it took about a day and a half before Dean could convince Dr. Speight to release him from the infirmary and clear him to resume his training. His instructor met him just outside the doors.

“I heard you were let out,” Castiel greeted, faking nonchalance. “How are you feeling, Winchester?”

“I’m alright, sir. I think I just needed the sleep,” replied Dean.

Cas wasn’t convinced. “Well, you look a bit better, at least. Your color is back. We don’t want to overdo it though, so how about we hit the classroom and look at some theory?”

Dean shrugged. “Okay, sounds good.”

Cas thumped his hand, warm and solid, on the center of Dean’s back, and led him into another building on base full of meeting rooms that could be used as instructional space. “Then it looks like class is now in session!”

For the next three days, the two men pored over books full of equations: how to calculate the speed and path of a bullet; how to factor in the wind speed and direction; how to adjust for smoke, fog, or mist. A good marksman needed to know how to hit his target, and a good spotter needed to know how to help his partner aim for it. Every day Cas drilled the subject into Dean’s head, and every night Dean stayed up entirely too late studying hard, committing it to memory.

The next morning, Dean could barely drag himself out of his bunk. Maybe he was still getting over his illness, or maybe he wasn’t getting enough sleep. Either way, his mind felt clouded, his body felt heavy, and he could barely force his eyelids open. 

Dean skipped the mess hall that morning, bypassing his usual breakfast and grabbing only a slice of toast on his way to the shooting range. He gulped down a mug of lukewarm coffee, refilling it a second time to chase down two NoDoz pills.  

“Thanks for meeting me at the range this morning, Private,” Cas said. “We have practiced something similar to this before, but we are going to make it more challenging. It’s pretty windy out here today, so since we have been studying that the past few days, we are going to put that into action and have you try to hit the medium and long range targets.”

Dean smiled wide. “Awesome!” he exclaimed, tingling with excitement.

“I will help you with the direction of the wind, but it’s up to you to figure out how much to adjust for the speed, alright?” Cas explained.

“Yeah! Let’s do it!” the soldier agreed.

Cas smiled at his enthusiasm. “Okay Winchester, go run your lap and come back when you’re done. I’ll set the rifle up for you. It’s a real rifle this time, with real bullets - no more practice rifles!”

“Sweet!” cried Dean as he jogged away towards the trail. 

Dean began his run and it didn’t take long before he felt his heart rate increasing and thumping hard against his chest.  He continued until he met Cas back at his starting point and immediately lay in position behind the rifle.  He tried to calm himself and start the all too familiar breathing exercises.  He could feel his heart hammering against the ground as it ignored his requests for it to slow.  

“Problem, Private?” Cas asked.  

Dean tried to calm himself again, but to no success.  Not wanting to disappoint, Dean looked for his target and fired. 

“Missed!” Cas called out. “Reload and try again.”

Dean loaded another round in the chamber of the rifle, and tried to focus harder on the pulsation of his racing heart against the earth. It was thudding too quickly for him to have even a moment of stillness to aim. He pulled the trigger anyway.

Cas lowered his binoculars. “What the hell was that, Winchester?  Do you not remember anything we learned?”  

“I don’t know, sir, my heart just won't slow,” Dean replied.  

Cas immediately grabbed the younger man's wrist, feeling his rapid pulse while looking at his watch. His eyes widened in concern, immediately dropping Dean’s wrist. “Sit up for a minute,” he ordered. He then placed his hand on the left side of Dean’s chest, feeling his heart beating hard and fast. “What? Why is your pulse so high? Did you try the breathing?” Cas questioned. 

“I did, it just didn’t work, it won’t slow down!” the soldier protested.

“Are you sure you did it right? Here, watch me and try again,” Cas offered. He took a deep breath in and out so Dean could match him. Castiel’s hand remained on Dean’s chest while the two breathed in synchronization.  

“It’s not going down.” Cas’ voice was laced with concern. “Are you feeling okay?” he asked while feeling Dean’s forehead. “Come on, we’re going to the infirmary; it might be related to you fainting the other day. I need you in perfect health.”  He packed up the equipment and lead Dean to see Gabriel.  

“Cas!” Gabriel exclaimed. “Great to see ya, pal!” He peered over his shoulder. “And you brought our buddy Private Winchester! What a treat!”

“Not now, Gabe,” Cas grumbled.

The doctor rolled his eyes. “Aw, come on, that’s no way to speak to your friend! Besides, I outrank you.” He grinned mischievously. “So, what can I do for you gentlemen today?”

Castiel placed a hand on Dean’s arm and gently maneuvered him forward in front of the medic. “Well,  _ Captain _ , you can help our buddy here, since he needs medical attention and you are a medical doctor.”

Gabe picked up one end of his stethoscope which was wrapped around his neck and wiggled it. “Oh, so that’s why they gave me this thing!”

“Gabe!” Castiel yelled. “His heart won’t quit racing. Will you shut up and use that thing on him?”

The doctor’s expression became serious. “Alright Dean, have a seat on the table and let’s take a look at you.”

Dean hopped onto the exam table and Gabriel took his pulse. Castiel settled into his usual position in the corner of the room.

“You’re right, it’s too fast,” Gabe announced. “You feeling okay, son? No other symptoms?”

Dean shook his head. 

“When did this start?” he questioned.

“About an hour ago?” the soldier guessed.

Gabe took the stethoscope from around his neck. “I’m gonna take a quick listen to you,” he explained. Gabriel moved Dean’s shirt up to place the stethoscope against his chest. After listening to each part of his heart, he wheeled over the EKG machine and placed a pulse ox on Dean’s finger. “Shirt off, I want to get a closer look.” 

Dean slowly removed his shirt, aware of his instructor gradually inching closer to him and scrutinizing his every move.  Keeping his eyes averted, he lay down as Gabe recorded the reading from the pulse ox on a new chart. Then Gabe began placing stickers on Dean’s chest and attaching the wires.  

“You know what to do Dean, just relax for me,” the doctor ordered. When the reading was finished, Gabriel left the electrodes on the younger soldier’s chest. 

“What’s wrong with him, Gabriel?” Cas interrupted.  

“Master Sergeant, this soldier is in my very capable hands. You can see to your other duties and I’ll report back to you later when I have a diagnosis.”  With one last reluctant glance, Cas patted Dean’s shoulder and exited the room, leaving the two men behind. 

Gabe wheeled his stool next to the table. “Let’s get a blood pressure on you, too.” Wrapping the cuff around Dean’s arm, he performed the familiar test. “It’s elevated, Dean. I gotta ask… have you taken anything?”

The young soldier gulped. “You mean, like, drugs? No, sir!”

“Have you eaten today, and drank enough water?” 

“Well, I had kind of a light breakfast - but the Master Sergeant makes sure I stay hydrated.”

“With what, coffee?” Gabriel joked.

The look on Dean’s face said that the doctor had found a clue.

“Dean, what’s going on? You’ve been looking more and more exhausted lately, and you show up today like this?” The doctor sighed. “How much sleep have you got since you were here last?”

“Three, maybe four hours a night?” he replied sheepishly. “Some of the other guys on base said I didn’t have to sleep so much if I took NoDoz, so I took a couple. With my coffee.”

Gabriel nearly choked trying to hold in his feelings. “You took caffeine pills  _ with your coffee _ and you wonder why your heart’s gone wild? Have you lost your mind, Private? Your resting pulse is -” he glanced at the monitor, “a hundred and thirteen!” 

Dean looked away, contemplating his answer. “I just want this so bad! Being sick made me miss out on a lot of work and I can’t afford to fail this course. I’ve been staying up late every night studying. Even now I’ve screwed it up again, missing out on training.”

“Dean, you haven’t screwed anything up. You aren’t behind. Cas speaks very highly of you, you know. But you need to start looking after yourself: eating properly, easing down on the caffeine, and getting the right amount of sleep. I don’t want to keep seeing you like this,” he lectured.

The young soldier sighed. “Alright. Can you help me, doc? My heart’s still pounding and the breathing exercises won’t slow it down this time.”

“I’ve got a few ideas,” Gabe reassured him. “But I can hear your instructor pacing out in the hallway. Do you want me to make him stop?”

Dean shook his head. “Nah, that’s okay. You should probably let him in here - you know how he is.”

Gabe quirked an eyebrow. “Didn’t realize you two had gotten so close already,” he commented.

“He’s a good man,” the soldier stated with a shrug. 

“Yeah, I know,” the doctor confirmed. “Okay, I’ll get him.”

The door swung open before Gabe’s hand even reached the knob. “Dean? You okay?” Castiel’s tone was urgent.

“Damn it, Cas, there are rules about patient confidentiality,” Gabe scolded.

Cas rolled his eyes. “This man is an enlisted soldier in the United States military and I am his commanding officer-”

“Yeah, we get it - you own his ass,” the doctor interrupted. “You’re lucky he likes you; he’s already given consent for you to be in the room.”

The Master Sergeant crossed the room and laid a hand on Dean’s shoulder again. “How are you feeling, Dean?” he asked softly.

“Fine,” he replied. Cas glared at him. “I mean, considering… this,” he motioned to the wires cascading across his chest.

“Do you know what’s wrong with him yet?” Cas asked.

“Just a bad case of the caffeine jitters,” Gabe explained. “He’s gonna be fine. Nowhere near enough in his bloodstream to cause an overdose.”

“Did you do a blood test?” his friend insisted.

“Not necessary,” the doctor replied. “The patient did not report an excessive intake and he shows no signs of dehydration or cardiac arrhythmia.”

“How do you know it wasn’t excessive if you didn’t draw his blood?” Castiel pressed.

“It was only two cups of coffee and two caffeine pills,” Dean piped in. “The other guys do it all the time, Collie, it’s not that bad-”

“Collie?!” Gabe sputtered.

Crimson spread brightly across Dean’s face, down his neck and across his upper chest; his heart rate rose to 122, the beeping humiliatingly obvious to the other two in the room. “Master Sergeant Collins,” he corrected himself.

But Cas only chuckled in amusement. “Nobody’s ever given me a nickname before. Hmmmm. Collie. I kinda like it,” he pondered.

“Do you, Collie?” Gabriel mocked.

“Shut it, Gabey,” Cas retorted.

“Point taken,” the doctor stated defeatedly. “But Dean, you shouldn’t be taking that much at once. And we already talked about getting proper sleep,” he lectured, refocusing on his patient.

Dean sighed. “Yeah, I know. I won’t do it again.” He made eye contact with his instructor. “I promise.”

Cas squeezed Dean’s shoulder comfortingly. “How do we get his pulse down, Gabe? Is it safe to just wait it out?”

“Yeah, his heart rate may be high, but there’s no abnormal electrical activity on his EKG, so there’s no reason to worry,” the doctor explained. “I know you marksmen are always eager to go play target practice with your boom sticks, though. So, I have something that might help.”

“Beta blockers?” Cas wondered aloud.

“Nope,” Gabriel popped his lips. “Valsalva maneuver.”

“Is it gonna hurt?” Dean asked. He tensed defensively beneath his instructor’s touch; Cas smoothed his thumb back and forth slowly over the skin to calm him.

“No,” Gabe reassured him. “I’m gonna have you bear down, like you’re straining to have a bowel movement, and hold it for 20 seconds. That creates pressure inside your chest, which activates the vagus nerve, and triggers your heart to slow down.”

Dean nodded. “Okay,” he agreed.

“What do I do, can I do anything?” Cas offered.

“You can calm down, mama bear,” Gabe jested. “Here, take this.” He handed Cas his stethoscope.

“What do you want me to do with it?” Castiel asked.

“Hold it. Use it. I don’t care,” Gabe answered with a shrug.

Cas fit the stethoscope into his ears and picked up the diaphragm. He glanced at Dean for permission.

“It’s alright, sir,” Dean consented. “Go ahead.” He shivered almost imperceptibly when it landed frigidly against his bare chest, and he could feel his pulse tapping quick and strong up against it.

“Okay, Dean: take a big, deep breath, hold it in, and bear down,” Gabriel instructed. 

Dean’s breath whooshed in Cas’ ears before it went silent and the last remaining sound was the rapid thump of his student’s heartbeat. The young soldier’s body went rigid and his face reddened with the effort. Cas continued listening intently to the racing beat.

“Good. Keep pushing just like that. Just a few more seconds,” the doctor coached. “Alright, exhale and relax.” He pressed his fingers against Dean’s neck and watched his heart monitor. “There we go, it’s starting to come down. How’s it sound, Cas?”

“It’s slower,” the instructor confirmed. After a few additional, slower beats, Cas removed the stethoscope from his ears, satisfied with what he heard, and handed it back to the doctor.  

“I just need to record one more EKG; then you are free to go.” Gabe moved towards the machine, pressing the button and waiting for the reading to print out. He scanned the piece of paper and smiled. “Yep, this all checks out! You’re free to go - but no more caffeine pills. You need to start eating 3 meals a day, keeping yourself hydrated with something other than coffee, and sleeping 8 hours; no more of this 4 hours nonsense,” he scolded. After removing the wires and sensors from the soldier, Gabe left the room, leaving Cas and Dean alone. 

Castiel sighed and perched on the end of the exam table where Dean lay. “You’re doing great, you know, Dean - you have picked this up far easier than anyone else I have taught. But you need to start looking after yourself.  What were you even thinking, taking caffeine pills and coffee; do you know how dangerous that can be?” 

Dean’s eyes opened wide with shock. “I’m sorry sir, I just-” he stopped himself, scrambling to sit upright.  

Cas shook his head. “I want this for you more than anyone, soldier. But you need to look after yourself; you can’t keep working yourself down like this. I…” the instructor swallowed thickly. “I’ve become very fond of you, Dean. And if anything were to happen, I-”

Dean silenced him by squeezing his hand. “Nothing’s gonna happen, alright? I’ll be more careful.”

Cas squeezed back. “Good.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For a cool moodboard by our friend cardiaccadillac, please check out the following tumblr post:   
> https://cardiaccadillac.tumblr.com/post/149903854708/copper-jacketed-heart-moodboard-for


	5. Chapter 5

“Well, Private, you’ve made it to Week Four,” announced Castiel. “You’ve already proven your abilities as a marksman. I know you can hit your targets. Now I need to train you in the art of stealth.”

“This isn’t spy camp, Master Sergeant,” Dean retorted.

Cas rolled his eyes. “I realize that, Winchester.”

“Do you?” Dean replied.

“Don’t flirt with me while I’m teaching you,” Cas chided. “Right now, I’m your instructor - and if you don’t listen to me, you’ll get yourself shot and killed out there. So pay attention, please!”

The younger man sighed. “Alright. I’m listening.”

His instructor adjusted his posture so he was standing straighter and taller. “Good. We start with camouflage.”

Dean chuckled. “That’s easy. We just put on our combat uniforms. Boom! Camouflaged!”

“Not so fast,” Cas cautioned. “You’re forgetting something.”

“What?” Dean asked, head cocked.

“Your rifle,” the older man answered. “It doesn’t have a uniform. It’s big and heavy and it doesn’t blend in - in fact, the enemy will be looking for the glint of sunlight on your scope. It’s a dead giveaway.”

“Oh.”

Cas chuckled. “Yes. _Oh_ is right. But it’s very important. Your country needs you alive.” He squeezed the young soldier’s shoulder. “I need you alive,” he continued in a lower voice.

Touched, Dean lowered his gaze. “Okay, you big sap - teach me.”

“Grab your gun,” Cas ordered. “Leave it unloaded, and meet me at the garage. We’re taking the Jeep out onto the stalking course.”

“Stalking?”

“I’ll explain when we get there.”

 

* * *

 

 Castiel made two right turns, and then drove the Jeep completely off the road.

“Um… where are we going?” Dean asked.

“The woods,” Cas replied.

The younger man cleared his throat. “Yes. I mean, why?”

His instructor turned his head to make eye contact briefly, before glancing back to the rough trail ahead of them. “No better place to learn how to blend in.”

Dean shrugged, a reflex, then remembered the Master Sergeant wasn’t looking at him. “Alright,” he confirmed. He watched as a grin crawled across Cas’ face.

He slowed the Jeep to a stop, parking it in a wooded area with plenty of trees, grasses, and shrubs. There had been a storm two days prior, resulting in a few large branches coming down as well.

“Plenty to work with here,” he remarked to Dean as they stepped out of the vehicle, their doors slamming closed in synchrony.

“Welcome to the jungle, we’ve got fun and games,” the younger man hummed.

Cas snorted. “Well, there’s definitely a lot more trees down than usual,” he conceded.

Dean nudged a branch with his boot. “Now what? You’ve got me all alone with you in the woods…”

“Private Winchester…” Castiel’s face reddened, and he grew quiet.

“I- I’m sorry, sir,” Dean quickly apologized. “I know you’re just trying to teach me. I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable-”

“No, Dean, it’s okay,” the older man cut in. “It’s just, I didn’t know if you were, well… I mean, I’m your commanding officer, and-”

“I didn’t know that _you_ were-” Dean interrupted.

“You didn’t know I was your superior?” Cas inquired.

“No, that you’re, well…” Now the younger man was blushing. “Umm, are you?”

“Yeah, I’m gay. You?”

“Well, I’m both. I mean, I’m bisexual.”

Castiel sighed. “But, Dean, I’m-”

“My commanding officer. Yeah.” Dean rubbed the back of his neck. “Are you allowed to date a subordinate?”

The older man shrugged. “Probably not. I don’t know. We’ll just have to be careful.”  

“So, uh, how is this gonna work, then?” Dean asked after a moment passed in silence.

“I’ll teach you how to camouflage your rifle, and if you do a good job, I’ll kiss you.” Castiel winked.

“Why don’t you kiss me now? You know, for motivation.” There was a loud rustle and _thwack_ as Cas whipped a tree branch against his head. “Oww, hey!”

“Oh, come on, that didn’t hurt!” the instructor chided. “You’re wearing a helmet.”

“Whatever,” Dean pouted. “It looked like it shoulda hurt.”

Cas chuckled and passed the leafy stick to Dean. “Here, put this on the barrel of your rifle,” he ordered. “See how it’s just about the right length? Now it’s much harder to spot from a distance.”

“Hmm, you’re right, that is better!” the Private agreed.

“ _Of_ _course_ it is,” his instructor retorted, puffing his chest out. “I’ve trained eight classes of marksmen before you began my course, and not a single one of those guys has been killed in action.”

Dean patted the Master Sergeant’s chest reassuringly. “You’re doing a great job with me so far, really. Don’t worry.”

“But I _do_ worry, Dean,” Cas admitted. “It’s different with you - with us, now.”

“You don’t have to worry if you teach me, just like any other student,” the younger man promised. “I’ll be just as good as them.” He held Castiel’s eyes in wordless agreement. “Now, show me how to disguise my gun. I want that kiss!”

 

* * *

 

“Okay, so you’ve got four hours for this exercise,” Castiel explained. “First, you have to get into position within 700 meters of the Jeep; radio me when you pass the marker. If I can’t spot you, you get to go on to part two. Otherwise, you have to restart - but it still counts against your four hours, so watch your time!”

“Got it. What’s part two?” Dean asked.

“Part two is that I’m going to be in the Jeep, holding up a card with a letter on it. You need to radio me and tell me what letter is on my card.”

“You want me to take an eye test?”

“No, soldier,” the instructor chuckled. “It’s to prove that you have a clean shot. If you can’t see the target through the scope of your rifle, you can’t hit it.”

“I got four hours for this?” Dean was incredulous. “That sounds easy as pie.”

Cas shook his head. “Here’s my advice, Dean: take your time. There’s no bonus for finishing early. But there is a penalty for not finishing at all because you kept getting spotted and had to restart. Understand?”

“Yeah, I understand,” the Private replied. He put on his pack and grabbed his rifle.

“Good. Let’s begin,” the older man suggested. “Jog out to the 1600 meter mark and radio me when you’re ready to start the timer.”

The Master Sergeant’s radio crackled to life about seven minutes later.

“Collins, this is Winchester. Do you copy?”

“Loud and clear, Winchester. You ready to start?” he answered.

“Ready, sir,” came Dean’s reply.

“OK - go, go, go!" Castiel called.

The radio was mute for half an hour while the older man waited for his student to sneak into position. In the distance, he detected movement down low in a bush.

“You’re gonna have to do better than that, Dean,” he called on the walkie talkie. “Go back out and start over.”

The radio responded with a heavy sigh. “What did I do wrong?” the Private asked.

“Get lower,” his instructor answered. “Crawl on your belly, not on your hands and knees.”

“Roger that.”

Forty minutes later, Cas caught Dean again when his path took him through an area where the grass was thinner.

“Watch your surroundings,” he corrected. “You’re better off taking a longer route to avoid vulnerable spots like that. Try again.”

Dean called back in about an hour. “Hey Cas, do you copy? I’m in position.”

The Master Sergeant pulled out a pair of binoculars and scanned the woods, looking for a sign of anything that was out of place. He found nothing. “Affirmative, Dean. Proceed to identification.” He held up a large white card with a black letter.

“Identifying F as in Foxtrot.”

Cas radioed back. “Negative. It’s Echo, not Foxtrot. Go all the way out again and restart.”

“Damn it!” Dean’s outburst was muffled over the handheld communication device.

“Easy, Dean,” the older man soothed. “Calm down. Take a breath and try again.”

His student called back one long moment later. “I almost had it, Cas!”

“ _Almost_ will get you shot and killed,” the instructor replied. “You have to pass this exercise on your own merit. If I let you off easy, I’ll be sending you to your death.”

“I think you’re being tougher on me ‘cause you like me,” Dean grumbled.

“Even if I am being extra tough, it’s just going to make you better,” Cas replied. “Now, this time, you need to get into a position where you have a clear line of sight, okay? In the real world, you’ll only have one chance to hit your target, so take your time and do it right. You’ve got less than two hours now.”

Castiel waited in absolute silence, keeping an eye on the timer. His walkie finally crackled again with three minutes to spare.

“Show me your card, Cas,” the Private radioed.

Unable to spot any sign of him anywhere, his instructor held up a new card.

“Identifying C as in Charlie.”

Castiel breathed a sigh of relief. “That’s good work, Dean. Let’s go home.”

 

* * *

 

“I want to teach you how to meditate,” Castiel informed Dean, breaking the silence after they parked the Jeep back in the garage on base.

“What, like yoga pants and whale noises? No thanks, I think I’ll pass.” 

“No, it’s designed to stop distraction and clear your mind,” the older man explained. “I just- I can see the pressure you’re putting on yourself, and I think it would be beneficial for your stress level.” 

Dean sighed. “Alright, if you say so.”

The instructor led him into a private room, where they would not be disturbed. Dean recognized it as one of the teaching rooms they had used earlier in his training. Cas slid the “in use” sign on the door before locking the door and closing the blinds in the window. He turned around to Dean, who was giving him a questioning look.

“We need somewhere quiet where we won’t be interrupted,” he clarified.

“Makes sense,” Dean shrugged in agreement. “So, uh, what do I do? Light the scented candles, start chanting?”

Castiel rolled his eyes, but began the lesson. “Sit with your legs crossed and close your eyes. Focus on your breathing: in through your nose, and out through your mouth. Become aware of that sensation as you feel air come in and out of your lungs. Exclude everything else. Our minds are busy places; you might feel this is making it busier, but you are just becoming more aware.”

He sensed movement in front of him. Opening his eyes, he saw Dean with his eyes closed shaking his leg. Cas put his hand on Dean’s knee, halting his movement and making his eyes shoot open.

“Sorry, I’m not very good at all of this touchy-feely, self-help crap,” he blushed.

“It’s okay,” Cas paused for a moment in thought. “I have an idea - wait here.” He left the room, returning a few moments later with a black and silver stethoscope.

“Is that for you or for me?” Dean questioned.

“It’s for you; I feel it will be useful for what we’re about to do.”  

“Really?” Dean smirked. “What are you planning on doing, hmm?”

Cas rolled his eyes. “Lie down,” he ordered, poking Dean square in the chest. “Now, put the stethoscope in your ears and the other end on your chest.” 

“Where? Right here, on my perfectly perky nipple?” he asked, pulling up his shirt.

“No, just below it.” Cas shook his head fondly. “Can you hear your heart beating?”

Dean didn’t respond right away. “Yeah, I can hear it,” he answered finally.

“I want you to focus on that,” the older man instructed. “Focus on the sound and the feeling. Become more aware of your body, and allow those sensations to ground you. Be mindful.”

The younger soldier sighed heavily, hearing his breath loud and clear through the tubing in his ears. “Alright, so now that I hear it and feel it and mind it and everything, what’s next?”

“Quiet, Dean,” Cas replied. “Mindfulness is about filtering out everything that’s unnecessary, and just focusing on the moment - which is something you’ll find helpful out on the battlefield.” He rested his hand on the Private’s abdomen. “Don’t forget your breathing, like we talked about earlier. Be mindful of that too - in and out, nice and slow.” 

Beneath his palm, Castiel could feel Dean’s body begin to relax; his breaths fell into an even rhythm.

“Close your eyes,” he murmured. 

Dean obeyed.

“Good,” Cas soothed, in a voice barely above a whisper. “Nice and relaxed. Feel all the stress drain from your body with every exhale, and with every inhale, feel more centered and peaceful.” He continued to speak in a calm tone, letting the words wash over the younger soldier.  

The next thing Dean became aware of was a dull ache in his ears, a pinching sensation. He moved his hands, clumsy and sleep-impaired, to the ear pieces of the stethoscope, and pulled it out. 

“Welcome back, soldier,” Cas chuckled. He carefully pried the device from the younger man’s grasp. “You seemed so relaxed, I thought you’d fallen asleep!”

“I take back what I said about meditation before, Cas,” Dean replied sincerely. “I feel like a new man!” He exhaled slowly. “How long was I out?”

The Master Sergeant snorted softly. “Hard to say exactly when you stopped meditating and started sleeping, but it seems to have had the desired effect. It’s been an hour and a half, Dean.”

“Really?” the younger man yawned. 

“Really,” Cas confirmed, resting his hand lightly on Dean’s chest and leaning in.

“What’re you doing?” the Private asked. “This part of the exercise too?”

“Nope,” the older man replied. “This is me keeping my end of the bargain.” 

He closed the rest of the distance between them, pressing his lips softly against Dean’s, pausing to gauge his reaction. The young soldier’s heart leapt and began pumping faster beneath Castiel’s hand. Emboldened, their mouths opened and the kiss began in earnest.

Cas eventually pulled back, panting. “Dean…”

“Yeah, Cas?” the younger man breathed back. He blinked heavily and gazed directly up into his instructor’s eyes.

The older man was speechless, staring back down into Dean’s eyes and wanting nothing more than to kiss his student again.  

“Aw, never mind,” Dean interrupted. “Let’s just make out.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Check out another amazing graphic our friend cardiaccadillac made for us on tumblr:  
> https://cardiaccadillac.tumblr.com/post/151258891943/copper-jacketed-heart-by-indigo-summer-for-the


	6. Chapter 6

_Six Weeks Later_

Dean had passed his final exam with flying colors and graduated; his father and brother had attended the ceremony. Not long after that, the pair had been given deployment letters and assigned to a unit together. Later, they found out that Gabriel had also been stationed at the field hospital in the desert where they were headed. It was a dangerous mission, but at least they were all together.

The night before deployment, the two were laying together in bed. Cas had called in a favor from Gabe, who had agreed to trade them his private room in the officer’s barracks, just for one night. Dean settled into Castiel’s arms, resting his head on Cas’ chest. The master sergeant was idly stroking Dean’s hair in a soothing gesture, but the young private couldn’t seem to relax.

“Cas?” he whispered.

“Yes?”

“I… I’m not ready to leave tomorrow,” he gulped. “I’m scared. What if I forget everything? What if I mess up and get you hurt - or worse, killed? What if _I_ die? Dad and Sam would be devastated! I can’t do that to them! I can’t leave them, or _you_!” Dean’s voice gradually rose, and he sat upright in bed as his panic increased.

“Easy, soldier,” Cas soothed. “You’ve been deployed before, remember? This isn’t your first tour. You know what to expect, and I promise to keep you safe.”

“Cas…” Dean whimpered, melting into a full-blown anxiety attack. “I’m really, really scared!”

“Dean, you have to calm down, alright?” Cas tried to remain calm, but the tension was evident in his voice. “Come on, Dean, breathe! Deep breaths.”

Dean tried to take in a deep breath, but failed, continuing to hyperventilate. Cas grabbed the younger man’s hand and placed it over his own heart.

“Do you feel that?”

Dean nodded.

“Focus on that, okay? Focus on my chest rising and falling. Follow my breaths, just like we do in practice, alright?”

Tears rolled down the younger soldier’s face as he tried to concentrate and follow the man in front of him.

“Come on, that’s it,” Cas smiled.

Dean began to take deep breaths in time with his instructor’s. Cas reached his hand to Dean’s neck, feeling for the pulse there. The young man’s skin was cool yet slick with sweat, and Cas could feel him trembling. As soon as his fingers rested on Dean’s neck, the master sergeant could feel the fluttering of the blood in his carotid.

“Shh, you’re doing great. Just keep taking deep breaths with me,” Castiel encouraged.

After breathing in perfect synchrony for a few more minutes, Dean had begun to relax. Cas held Dean’s hand to his chest still, and reached up to feel his pulse again. He sighed a breath of relief when he felt the slower, more regular beat of his heart. But despite calming down, Dean was still sniffling, fighting to hold back stray tears. Cas gently lowered Dean’s hand and guided the young man to lie down on top of him. He lay back and positioned Dean’s head on his chest, so he could hear and feel the steady beat of his heart and feel his even breathing.

“Cas,” Dean choked out, trying to pull away.

But Cas only held him closer. “Shh, I’ve got you,” he spoke softly, stroking the younger man's hair. “You’re safe. I won’t let anything hurt you… you know that, right?”

Dean’s head nodded against the older man’s chest. “I know,” he whispered. “I trust you.”

“Good,” Cas kissed the top of Dean’s head and wrapped his arms tighter around him. “You are going to be fine. I will be with you all the way.  I’ll watch your back, and you will watch mine; nothing is going to go wrong.”

 

* * *

 

 At 0700 hours the following morning, the trio boarded a cargo plane bound for the front lines alongside the rest of their unit. The latest intelligence and satellite surveillance indicated that a high-ranking enemy officer was hiding in a nearby village among the local residents. This man was an important link to the leader of the enemy forces, and eliminating him from the chain of command would significantly weaken their ability to mount an attack. The presence of civilians made an airstrike impossible; likewise, sending ground troops en masse could also result in unnecessary loss of life. General Benedict had given the order for the sniper team to infiltrate the village and assassinate the enemy officer under the cover of darkness.

The sun set on an ominous blood-red sky over the desert sands that evening. Dean and Castiel had spent the entire afternoon in the briefing room in a secure video conference with the General, going over the details of the plan. The drone pilots had scouted the surrounding areas and selected a hill 800 meters away with a clear shot of the enemy officer’s bedroom window. Their orders were to stalk into position after sunset and wait all night for the opportune moment to neutralize the target. They would only get one chance; if they missed, the officer would be sure to go even deeper into hiding, and they might never locate him again. Succeeding tonight was absolutely critical.

At last, it grew dark. Cas and Dean checked their gear one last time and hopped into a humvee. Another soldier from their unit drove them to the edge of the hills, far enough away that they could not be detected from the village.

“Your radios are on encrypted channel three,” she reminded them. “There’s a chopper waiting for you at rendez-vous point alpha when you’re ready for extraction.”

The men nodded. “Thanks, Harvelle,” Cas replied.

“You get that bastard, Winchester,” she encouraged. “Get ‘im right in the nuts for me.”

Dean smiled. “You got it, Harvelle.” They watched her drive back towards base in the humvee.

When the dust settled, the Master Sergeant turned towards his partner. “Ready?” he inquired.

“Ready,” the Private confirmed.

“Then let’s go.”

 

* * *

 

 Just shy of three hours later, the pair had stalked into position on the hill. Master Sergeant Collins was measuring the air temperature and wind speed to help Private Winchester determine the right trajectory for his shot.

“There’s no wind tonight,” Castiel whispered to his partner. “Makes it simple for you.”

Dean looked up from the scope of his rifle into the older man’s eyes for a moment, saying nothing.

Cas smiled reassuringly and laid his hand on the small of the younger man’s back. “Just breathe, Dean. I’m right here with you. You can do this.”

Dean took a minute to steady his breathing, then looked through the scope to find his target. Before he could react, there was a bang, followed by a thud and a groan. Dean turned to see Cas on the ground; without thinking, he scrambled to his side.

“Medic! We need a medic!” Dean whispered loudly into his radio. “Collins is down!” He rummaged through his bag, keeping one hand firmly on Cas’ abdomen to slow the bleeding. He grabbed a pack of Quickclot gauze, ripped it open with his mouth, and applied it to the wound.

“Come on Cas, you can’t do this to me. You promised me, you promised,” he choked out. He reached for the older man's neck to check for a pulse. A tear of relief fell when he felt the soft thumping. “Don’t leave me, come on, come on!”

Another shot rang out and Dean fell forward, clutching his left shoulder.  Dean crawled back towards his gun, and remembering everything Cas taught him, he steadied his breathing, aimed through the enemy officer’s bedroom window, and fired.

Dean sighed a breath of relief before speaking into his radio once more. “Target eliminated. We’re taking fire! Harvelle, we need emergency evac now!”

“Can you get to the extraction site? The boys can cover you,” her voice fizzled over the radio.  

“We can make it if your boys can shoot straight!” Dean retorted.

“You still with me, Cas?” Dean asked, bending down close to his superior.  Cas was in and out of consciousness, but the gauze was holding, so Dean packed up his rifle. He lifted Cas as carefully as he could, but the Master Sergeant still grunted when the movement agitated his wound.

Dean made it to the extraction site right as the helicopter landed, collapsing to his knees from exhaustion. The medics ran out and swarmed the pair, checking them over for injuries. A young man started to shine a light in Dean’s eyes, but he pushed his hand away.

“I’m fine, just help him!” He urged. He watched the medics who worked on Cas closely, trying to follow what was going on. Their hands moved all over the injured soldier’s body in a blur. Suddenly, Dean recognized a voice calling his name.

“Winchester, can you hear me? You goin’ into shock?”

“‘M fine,” he replied, trembling. He felt the medic’s fingers press against his wrist.

“Your heart’s racing.”

Dean huffed. “Adrenaline.”

Captain Speight and his team were waiting when the helicopter touched down at the base. They rushed forward with a gurney for Cas; Gabriel’s attention, however, was focused on Dean.

"Does that red stain belong to you?” he asked calmly.

"No, I think it’s Cas’… it might be mine too.  I don't know." His voice wavered.  

Gabe smiled sadly at him, reaching for the scissors in his pocket. He cut away Dean’s shirt to reveal the deep bullet wound in his shoulder, still seeping with blood. Dean looked so small and fragile. Not wanting to shock him any more, Gabe silently motioned for the nurse to bring him a wheelchair.  

“Alright Dean, can you sit down for me?” Gabe asked softly.

Dean moved towards the chair, stumbling slightly into Gabe, who guided him to sit down and wheeled him to a trauma bay.

Gabe studied Dean’s wound, waving a nurse over to help get the patient onto a bed and to attach the necessary equipment. “I want a full set of vitals on this soldier - and make sure he’s stable! I need to know how bad the damage is internally,” he instructed. He gently pulled Dean forward to examine his back. “Damn it, there’s no exit wound. That bullet’s still in you, kid.”

“Can you get it out?” the Private inquired.

“I need to see where it is; you need an x-ray,” Gabriel explained.

“Not until Master Sergeant Collins is safe,” Dean protested. “X-ray him first.”

Gabe glanced over to the other side of the trauma bay, where his staff were preparing an operating room for Cas. “Collins is going into surgery right now. They’re going to extract the bullet, repair the damage, and stop the bleeding in his abdominal cavity. He’s critical - there’s no time to x-ray him. Do you understand?”

“You need to go with him,” Dean insisted. “You need to do the surgery!” The beep of his heart monitor accelerated.

Gabriel placed his hand on the younger soldier’s good arm and squeezed. “Shh, Winchester, easy. He’s going to be fine. I’m more concerned about you right now. I think you might be going into shock.”

Dean shook his head vigorously. “Please, you’re the best doctor. You gotta be in there!”

Gabe’s hand rested on his cheek, warm against his clammy skin. “Look at me, Dean. Cas is being taken care of. He’s in excellent hands, I promise you. I need you to stay calm for me, okay pal? Can you do that?” His eye flicked over to the monitors, glancing at his patient’s pulse and respiratory rate to see if his words would sink in. “Dean?”

“Yes,” he answered breathlessly with a feeble nod.

“Good man,” the army doctor praised. “Let’s get that x-ray.”

 

* * *

 

 The x-ray image revealed that the bullet had missed the subclavian artery, meaning that Dean had narrowly escaped bleeding to death in the desert. It had been stopped by his scapula, prevented from shooting out his back by his shoulder blade.

“It will have to be surgically removed,” Gabriel informed his patient.

“No way,” Dean refused. “No surgery ‘til I know Cas is okay.”

“Private, if we wait too long, it could give you nerve damage, or you could develop an infection.”

“You’re not knocking me out while my boyfr-” he cleared his throat. “ _Superior officer_ ,” he corrected, “is in critical condition!”

Gabriel sighed. “But Dean, as your doctor: that bullet has got to come out, and soon.”

“Can’t you get it out through the entry wound?” the younger man asked.

Gabe snorted. “You’re joking, right? That’ll hurt like hell, kid.”

“Well it hurt going in, too.”

“Dean!”

“Come on, doc, don’t you have something you can numb it with?” Dean pleaded.

“Does this look like Mass Gen to you? I don’t have any regional anesthesia. I don’t have supplies for a nerve block. We’re in the desert, all I have is lidocaine!”

“Please, Gabriel, just try it.”

The doctor sighed. “Alright. Against my better judgment, I’ll give it a shot. But it’s gonna hurt like a mofo - and I could end up doing more harm than good, poking around in there.”  

“Do it,” Dean ordered.  

“Nurse? How much lidocaine do we have on hand?” Gabe asked. “I’m gonna need it all, and sterile surgical tools. Oh, and oral pain meds, and some amoxicillin for prophylaxis, please.”

The nurse returned with everything he requested, and helped prepare Dean for the procedure. They propped his bed up at an angle and painted carefully around the hole in his shoulder with betadine.

“Last chance to back out Dean,” Gabriel warned, looking the younger man in the eyes. Dean returned his gaze, unflinching, with a subtle nod. The doctor picked up the first syringe and injected the contents around the surface of the bullet hole. The second syringe went in deeper, numbing the muscles beneath the skin.

“That wasn’t so bad.”

“That wasn’t it,” Gabe replied. “Give that a few minutes to work, and then we’ll continue.”

Within ten minutes, Dean was feeling numb enough for the procedure to begin.

“Alright, deep breath Dean.” As Dean inhaled, Gabriel began opening the bullet wound wider.

He made a cross-shaped incision over the opening and carefully peeled the skin back so he could see better. “That shouldn’t have hurt.”

“It didn’t,” Dean replied. “It just feels really weird.”

“Retractor?” he asked the nurse. She placed it in Gabe’s hand, and he used light pressure to pry the hole open. “How’s that feel, Dean-o?”

The soldier’s face had lost some color. “Fine,” he groaned. The nurse blotted at the droplets of sweat which had formed at his hairline.

“Mhmm. Then why’d your pulse just spike over 100? Do you want some more of the numbing agent?”

Dean squeezed his eyes shut and nodded. A moment later, he felt a pinch deep inside his shoulder joint. He whimpered, unable to hold the sound back.

“Let’s give him some oxygen, doctor,” the nurse suggested. She put a mask over his mouth and nose, securing the strap behind his head.

“Just breathe, Dean. We’ll continue when that kicks in,” Gabe explained.

The Private eased his eyes back open as numbness settled into the injured area.

“BP is falling, doctor.”

“We need to work faster, he’s losing blood. You good, Dean?”

“Just get it out,” he grimaced. His face paled even whiter than the sheet on the gurney before he’d bled all over it.

“Forceps?” Gabe requested. “Can you shine some light down in here for me please?”

Dean squinted against the brightness in his peripheral vision. A shadow appeared and blocked some of the light.

“Will you move that? I’m trying to work here,” the doctor complained.

“Doctor Speight, it’s about Master Sergeant Collins,” an unknown voice piped in.

“What about him?” Gabe replied. Dean merely moaned, too pained to speak.

“There’s been a complication-”

“What kind of complication?” the doctor interrupted.

“The bullet nicked the splenic artery, and there was quite a lot of damage to the area. The spleen ruptured and had to be removed.”

“Anything else?”

“Well, he suffered a lot of blood loss. His heart stopped while we were transfusing him-”

Dean’s vision narrowed and greyed, and the voice went in and out of focus as if it were coming from underwater. He struggled to hear the rest, but pain and shock were dragging him under. The monitors by his bedside chirped faster.

“Pulse is 130, BP is 90 over 50 - Doctor, he can’t hold on too much longer,” the nurse interrupted. “Can you extract it, or not?”

“Hang on, kid,” Gabe whispered. He expanded the retractor wider and was at last able to see the bullet. Skillfully he reached in with the forceps, plucking it from where it was lodged in the bone. It fell with a tinny clank into the kidney dish.

Dean was not conscious to hear the sound, or the rest of what the voice had come to report.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was written by Angelwithbrokenwings and dusty_violet.

“-But they were able to resuscitate him successfully, and he’s stable. The surgeon is closing him up now.”

The message was nearly lost in the bustle as Gabriel and his surgical nurse hurried to stop their unconscious patient’s bleeding and stitch his wound closed.

 

* * *

 

Dean awoke fifteen minutes later, after the blood transfusion returned enough of his strength. The first thing he registered was pain in his shoulder - fortunately, there was no pain down his arm. He also noticed he had been moved to a new bed with clean sheets and had been dressed in a gown. The bullet hole in his shoulder was covered by a sterile patch of gauze, and the injured arm was strapped in a sling. Gabriel was sitting close to the bed, his head resting in his hands.

Suddenly, Dean sat upright, immediately groaning in pain and startling the doctor.  Gabe put a hand on Dean’s good shoulder, gently guiding him back down.

“Oh, thank god I didn’t kill you,” the Captain sighed in relief. “Dean, you need to stay still. The procedure took a lot out of you. Rest.”

“I can’t just sit here in bed when Cas is dead!” Dean cried out, throwing the bed sheets to the side.  

“Dean, Cas isn’t - he’s alive. He’s going to be fine. He lost a lot of blood, but the doctors were able to get him back. He’s in recovery now,” Gabe explained, looking the young man in the eyes and making sure he understood. “But he’s still in a serious condition, so you’re both being flown stateside to the military hospital tonight.”

Dean blinked to clear the tears. “But that doctor said-”

“You passed out before he finished talking; we were losing you, son.” The captain shook his head slowly. “Now, I managed to get that bullet out, but you’re still hurt pretty badly. There’s the injury to the soft tissue, obviously, but you could also have some nerve damage. We won’t know the extent of the damage until you’re healed. You’ll be in physical therapy for a while,” he finished, tucking Dean back into his bed.

“Am I going to be discharged from the army?” the Private asked.

“It’s too early to say. Anyway, that’s not my call,” Gabriel replied, fiddling with the infusion rate on Dean’s IV line. “How are you feelin’ now?”

The younger man shrugged, then flinched. “Ahhh, owww, _ohhh_!” Pain forced his eyes tightly shut.

“Easy, Dean, don’t move,” the doctor coaxed. “Just relax, okay?”

“Shoulder hurts,” Dean whimpered.

“I know, kid, just breathe through it. I’m giving you a little more morphine. You’ll feel better soon,” Gabe promised. He stood up to check Dean’s vitals. “Your blood pressure is coming back up, oxygen looks good… pulse is a little high for you, but that’s probably just the pain. Alright, I can bring you to see him, _after_ your transfusion is complete.”

Dean let out a small whine, but nodded in agreement.

“I’m gonna take a look at that arm now, okay? Turn your head and look the other way for me.” Gabriel stated. He placed his hand on the young man’s shoulder right where it joined his neck. “How’s that feel?”

“Ugh, sore!” the Private complained.

“I’ll be gentle,” Gabe promised. He slid his hand two inches over. “How about that?”

“Oww!”

“Alright, just relax, buddy,” the doctor soothed, moving his hand to the top of Dean’s arm. “How about now?”

“You don’t have to go easy on me, Captain - I can handle it.”

The older man paused. “...You don’t feel that?”

“Should I?” Dean turned to see the doctor pinching his shoulder tightly enough to leave an intense red welt. He inhaled sharply. “Gabriel?!” The beeping in the background began accelerating as his heart rate increased.

“Hey, calm down, Dean. There’s no need to panic. Let me just see how far this goes, alright?” Gabe moved farther down his arm. “Look away, and raise your hand when you feel something.” He traced down the outside of the arm to the elbow; no reaction. He repeated the test on the inside of his upper arm. Earning no response, he ran his fingers down Dean’s forearm to his affected hand, testing the back and the palm. The Private’s other hand stayed down by his side.

“Gabe?” the young man called again.

The doctor pressed sharply against each of Dean’s nail beds, hoping to elicit a pained response. “You feel any of that?”

“No,” he replied, swallowing slowly.

“Look at me, Dean,” Gabriel ordered.

The young soldier’s head turned slowly, his expression tensed in apprehension.

“There’s a good chance this could be temporary, alright?” the doctor explained. “Your arm is still attached, and you’ve got normal blood flow to the area. Those are really good signs.”

“My arm’s paralyzed,” Dean whispered.

The Captain sighed. “Right now it is, yes. I suspect you’ve damaged some nerves in your shoulder; they’ll have to evaluate you when you get to the hospital to be sure. But you have options, Dean! They’ve made amazing advances in this area-”

“My arm’s _paralyzed_ , Gabe,” the Private repeated.

Gabe squeezed Dean’s good hand. “You’re going to be alright, son. Sometimes these types of nerve injuries even heal themselves over three or four months. You’ll get the use of your arm back; don’t worry.”

The younger man just nodded, trying to accept his doctor’s advice.

When they finished replacing the blood he had lost from the wound, Gabriel checked him over once more and was satisfied. The doctor started to detach Dean from the various monitors; catching his confused expression, the Captain smiled. “I’m going to get you a wheelchair, alright? Don’t try to get up alone yet. Be right back.”

In a minute Gabe returned with a wheelchair, and Dean allowed himself to be cautiously maneuvered into it. He was pushed a short distance to the recovery area and parked outside the beige curtain.

“Just a minute; let me make sure he’s decent,” the doctor explained.

“Gabe, Cas won’t care, we’re-” he paused.

Gabriel patted his head fondly. “That’s not it, kid. You’ve both just been through a trauma, and I don’t want to shock you.” He ducked behind the curtain, seeing his badly injured friend for the first time.

Master Sergeant Collins was ashen and totally still, apart from the ventilator moving his chest. A large, bloodied piece of gauze was taped over the left-central portion of his stomach, and three electrodes on his chest plugged into the monitor beside the bed. Just then, the blood pressure cuff whirred to life, taking another reading the way it had been automatically every ten minutes since he’d been brought in. A pulse oximeter on his finger and an intravenous cannula in his hand completed the set.

Gabe sighed and smoothed his friend’s hair back into place. “Okay, Dean,” he called, pulling the blankets up over Cas’ body. He moved the curtain aside and parked the younger man’s wheelchair as close to the bed as it would go. “He’s not awake yet. They’re keeping him sedated in preparation for the transfer.” He watched Dean’s face carefully while he explained. “He is stable for now. “You can talk to him, if you’d like?”

Dean reached his good hand slowly forward and clasped it around Castiel’s motionless one. “Hey, Collie,” he whispered. “It’s me, I’m here. We’re okay.” The Private breathed out in relief. “We did it, Cas - we got the bad guy, together. And we’re going home soon. I’m gonna bring you home and take care of you, alright?” He withdrew his hand to wipe away a tear before it could drip on the bed. “Just you and me, Cas.”

“I’m gonna check on the ETA of that medical transport,” Gabriel whispered to Dean. “You stay here as long as you like.” He closed the curtain around them as he left.

The Private rested his hand on Castiel’s chest. Inside, his heart was still beating as strong as ever. Dean lost himself in the cadence, overjoyed and grateful that they were both still living. Each pulse vibrated against Dean’s hand as if Cas’ heart were on the other side of a door, knocking twice to announce: “I’m here. I’m here. I’m here.”

There was no way of telling how much time had passed when Gabriel returned to find Dean like that, his hand outstretched over Castiel’s heart and his eyes closed almost prayerfully. “Your ride is about half an hour away,” he informed Dean in a hushed tone. “You still have some time. Are you feeling okay still?”

“I’ll live,” the younger man replied, his voice thick.

Gabe knelt next to the wheelchair. “I know you will. And so will he - promise.”

Dean turned to the doctor. “Captain, could I-” he began to blush. “Could I borrow this?” he asked, gesturing with his good arm to the stethoscope around Gabe’s neck.

The older man smiled. “Course you can, son. Here, let me help.” He removed his stethoscope and placed it in the Private’s ears for him. Dean picked up the diaphragm while Gabriel draped the blankets a bit lower on Cas’ torso, careful to leave the bloody dressing concealed. He nodded in encouragement.

Dean placed the stethoscope on Castiel’s chest, and he could hear it clearly. Cas’ heart was beating. He was alive. A wave of emotions crashed over the younger man: love, comfort, peace, relief, joy, gratitude. He didn’t even notice when Gabriel wiped his eyes for him with a tissue. Nothing mattered except that the man he loved was alive, and with him, and he had the sound of his heartbeat as proof.

The medical transport landed on the runway outside, and Dean was the only one for miles who couldn’t hear it.

 

* * *

 

_Three Months Later_

 

Recovering from their injuries was a long process. The surgery on Castiel was successful, and he gradually adapted to life without a spleen. Unfortunately, as he learned, that involved becoming a human pincushion. He received a round of assorted vaccinations two weeks after the surgery and was given antibiotics to carry with him at all times in case he felt an infection coming on. He would also require annual flu shots from then on, and additional vaccinations every five years to keep his immunity up. Fortunately, given his skills as a sniping instructor, the military decided he was best stationed at his previous post - the same base where Gabriel served as physician, where his friend could keep a close eye on his health.

As for Dean, his injury was more serious than Gabriel first thought. The young soldier needed to have surgery to reconnect the severed nerve in his arm, which Gabe had accidentally nicked while removing the bullet. The finest military surgeons extracted a nerve from Dean’s leg and grafted it into the injured area.

Dean told Cas not to visit him after his surgery due to his weakened immune system, much to his boyfriend’s chagrin. But Castiel turned up at his bedside anyway. A day later, he was admitted to the adjacent bed with a hospital-acquired infection that took a week of antibiotics to clear up. From then on, Dean became extra cautious with Castiel’s health.

When the pair had recovered, they received two letters inviting them to an award ceremony.  They were both awarded a Purple Heart for their services and sacrifices to the military.  Dean was also awarded the Silver Star for his gallantry in hitting the critical mark in the mission.  

After the pomp of the ceremony and the congratulations of fellow officers, Dean wrapped his arm discreetly around Cas’ waist. “C’mon Collie, let’s go home.”

And they did.


End file.
